I was pleasantly surprised to see how much Ivan had grown, mentally as well as physically.
Gone was the short, scrawny, trembling boy who used to splutter and stutter nervously, fidgeting and falling over his own feet just to stay out of the way.
No, standing before me — well, sitting before me and currently demolishing a strawberry shortcake — was a young man with a straight back and calm demeanor that exuded some well-earned confidence.
I could see the subtle shape of lean muscles rolling under his tactical vest, and while he still looked far from an athletic jock, he was definitely in good shape.
Coupled with his dark eyes, housing pupils with a faint tint of blue around them — a trait exclusive to all Frostborns, the people of the North — his gaze carried an edge that had definitely seen the worst of violence.
I don't know why, but it kind of made me melancholic as much as it made me proud.
